Sweet Temptation
by Tiarhlu
Summary: During a snack heist, RJ and Verne rescue a pet rabbit, who turns out to be more than RJ wants to handle when his love for junk food is constantly questioned. Will they get along? Will anyone learn a lesson? Probably not.
1. Duncan

Chapter 1

Duncan

"RJ, I'm not sure about this any more," Verne whispered through his teeth. "Let's go back."

"Are you kidding?" RJ replied as he hopped to his feet and stared at him in disbelief, his jaw partly agape. "You can't give up now! We're almost there."

For the past half hour they had been sitting in a local's backyard, behind a large pot that contained a plastic tree. Despite being lifeless, it managed to provide the all-important service of shade, which was much welcomed on that hot summer afternoon. Had it not been for Verne's uncertainty, they would have only been there for a moment, but he continued to mix up parts of the plan, and also had the need to get it perfectly straight in his head before he would allow himself to move to the next step. This anal retentive nature continued to get on RJ's nerves, but he was determined to get him to come out of his shell, figuratively speaking.

"I just don't know about this." Verne's eyes slowly moved to RJ's side so that they were not meeting. "You seem to get in trouble every time you do this, and I'm quite fond of my life, thank you."

RJ moaned and threw his arms into the air. "No look. We _have_ to go in there."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, leaning over a bit. "This house has twinkies with extra cream filling. I saw the box! It was in their trash!" His breathing increased simply from the thought of it, and he began to shake a little from fear that he would be denied. "Now will you hurry up and do it? I don't think I'm going to bring you again. Hammy cooperates much better."

"I'm beginning to think it's not a good idea."

RJ nearly screamed from frustration. "But that's the plan! We went over this, and over this. You frolic, the humans see you, you pretend to fall and break your leg, they come out to help, and I go in and get the twinkies. The twinkies Verne! The twinkies!" His right eye had been taken by an uncomfortable twitch.

"I don't frolic," Verne said flatly.

"Oh come on, you can do this." RJ forced a smile, which he continued to hold while speaking.

"You don't want to disappoint your good buddy do you? Do you Verne?"

"Fine. There's nothing worse than a desperate raccoon. I swear." Verne blew out a heavy breath and then came to his feet. Cautiously he crept around the pot in the direction of the house. It was a two-story home, with a two car garage, and with what appeared to be two children's toys left under each two paned window. The plastic siding that was meant to mimic wooden planks had a coat of white paint, which even to Verne seemed unnaturally clean. How could there be not one speck of dirt on it?

He looked around the side house for a moment, noticing that the two garage doors were open, with the vehicles mysteriously missing. There were none parked along the street either, as far as he could see. Verne looked over his shoulder to catch RJ watching him intently.

"Hey, it looks like no one's home. Maybe I don't have to do this after all. Let's just go in RJ."

"No no no, that's what they want you to think. Just frolic."

"But-"

"_Frolic_."

"This is so embarrassing," Verne muttered. After a moment's hesitation, he held out his arms, and began to rock back and forth on his feet, a false smile gleaming from his face with the radiance of an overblown Christmas light display.

"I'm not buying it," came RJ's voice. "You have to do better than that. Think more frivolous and less angry turtle."

"If you want nimble you're not asking the right person." This Verne said to himself, and then turned back around to face the house. It was difficult for him to be any livelier, especially when he was feeling anything _but_ "frivolous" at the moment. The heavy shell was not helping matters. He began to dance around again, swallowing his pride enough to do something that vaguely resembled a poor man's version of the Charleston.

Strolling by on his right a few minutes later was RJ, complete with a satisfied smirk. "I _guess_ that'll do," he teased, not looking over as he passed.

"It will?" Verne quickly stopped his arm pumping and righted himself.

"Yeah. You're right, no one's home. I just wanted to see you do that."

Verne stared in disbelief, and then finally caught up with him after an extended moan. "See? This is why we keep having problems."

Once he was under the nearest window, RJ glanced back at him. "Why? Because you're a bad dancer?"

"No!" Verne said angrily. "Because you don't take anything seriously."

"Oh my sad little scaly friend," RJ said as he shook his head, and lightly placed his hands on Verne's shoulders. "One of these days you're going to have to relax, and trust me when I say you will be more pleasant to be around. Besides, I'm always in control." As he said this, he pulled himself onto the ledge below the window, and leaned against the glass, as there was not enough room to balance. While using one arm for support, he reached back with the other and pulled a set of metal cake knives out of his bag. They had been glued together to add strength. These he pushed under the bottom of the window and pressed down on the handle with his foot. After a few heavy grunts, the window slid open a few inches, which was just enough to easily get his hands under the bottom.

RJ heaved the window open, leapt into the house, and a few seconds later the sound of latches being undone was heard, followed by the sound of a turning knob. The back door opened without so much as a creek. RJ was still hanging on the knob when he came into view, and he quickly dropped onto the pavement. "You didn't know they had installed a raccoon door did you?" he said proudly.

"Why did they lock the door but not the window?" Verne asked as he made his way into the house.

"Why does one human drive a minivan that holds five?" was RJ's reply.

"It makes no sense," Verne said as he tapped his fingers on his shell, producing a dull thumping.

"No, but it's our gain. Hurry." RJ waved his hand in a rapid "come here" motion. Without waiting, he dashed back into the house.

Upon initially entering, the first thing that he had noticed was how cold the house was. The automated air conditioner ran for all it was worth, causing his fur to stand up all the way to the tip of his tail. Once he had finally grown used to it, the air felt much nicer than what was on the other side of the door. The second thing he noticed was the unmistakable scent of artificial strawberries, made possible by air freshener; the spray stung his nostrils, causing them to burn until they were used to it. What he noticed last was the furnishings. The room itself was covered in a thin beige, plush carpet, and littered with a couch, a table that held scattered magazines (usually about a celebrity's personal life,) and a large plastic stand, that like the siding of the house, was made to resemble wood. The stand held an equally large television, bordered on each side by some framed pictures that were barely noticeable with the monstrosity between them.

In an adjacent room was the kitchen, and thus the source of RJ's attention: the food cabinets. Using a chair, he climbed up onto the counter by the sink, and then looked down to see Verne slowly creeping into the house, tiptoeing as his eyes darted to and fro. The bright light from outside illuminated his shell and head until he was on the tile, which was out of the way of the back door.

Verne leaned his head back to see RJ, an awkward grimace growing onto his face. "Um, why exactly did you need me? You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself."

"To help carry things," RJ said as though it could not have been any more obvious. He then added very casually, "and also to frolic, had the humans actually been here."

"I know, but-"

"-Catch!"

Verne looked up just in time to see a large bag of barbeque flavored chips flying at his head. He instinctively ducked into his shell, and in the next instant felt the plastic bag thud off of the top before hitting the floor. Slowly he came out, still worried that he was about to be in the path of another culinary projectile. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he noticed RJ tearing through the cabinets, throwing back anything that did not interest him, which happened to be most things. He watched a bag of grapes, a banana, a box of fat free brownies, numerous cans of spices, and finally an apple leave the raccoon's hands and tumble to the floor.

"I don't see them!" RJ grumbled as he tossed more items out of the way. "Where are they?" Not once did he look back, and Verne was quite certain that RJ was only talking to himself. As focused as he could be when hunting for a snack that he had his mind on, there was no point in even addressing him at the moment.

Suddenly, Verne saw yet another bag flying at him. This one he caught, and glanced over it to see that it was a bag of mini chocolate chip muffins. "Good choice?" he said half heartedly, but as he expected was being paid no attention.

Two cabinets later, RJ turned to face him, a hand tightly gripping the cabinet's shelf. Intense frustration was scratched into his features. "Where are they?" he asked again in a near snarl. "They must be hidden somewhere."

"Maybe they didn't buy more. Not everyone values twinkies as much as you do. Now can we go?"

"No! They're here, and we will find them," he said in defiance.

"You were just telling _me_ that _I _need to relax. Maybe you should listen to yourself for a change," Verne said as calmly as he could. He still remembered being kicked rather harshly the last time he tried to prevent RJ from getting what he wanted. Then it had been a can of Spuddies. Granted, that had actually been a life threatening matter, but he knew the power that the cream filled golden snacks held over his friend.

"Let's find them, and I will, okay?" RJ replied as he approached him. He tried to calm himself, but he was still clearly shaking.

Verne sighed and averted his eyes. "You're addicted to these things. It's not good for you RJ."

RJ suddenly stopped, standing up defensively. However before he had a chance to answer, they heard a third voice. It carried the same manic energy and pitch as Hammy's, although it had a slightly soured timbre.

"Hey who's here I didn't see anyone come in hello? What are you doing?"

"Who's that?" Verne asked, looking around the kitchen, and then into the living room.

"I don't know!" came the voice again. It seemed unnecessarily panicked. "Who are you?"

"I'm Verne," he said, still trying to find the source of the sound. His tiny ear holes were not the most effective. "Where are you?"

Meanwhile, RJ had flattened himself against the lower cabinets from fear that the voice had been the homeowners. He sniffed the air a few times while his ears twitched. Slowly he relaxed, and stepped closer to Verne again. "I don't sense any humans," he said in a near whisper. "Whoever that is, we're safe for now."

"They're gone!" the stranger said. "They won't be back for a long time. Oh no! Unless I fell asleep. I don't know if I did really it just happens sometimes. Oh dear I hope I didn't." The pitch of his voice traveled up and down, as though he had no real control over it.

Momentarily taking interest, RJ let his attention slip from the treasure hunt. He began to stroll toward the source of the sound, which he soon saw to be a cage that was placed atop a TV tray, only a few feet away from the actual television. "So you say the humans aren't coming back for a while?"

"Yes. Well no, I don't think so. I mean they could but they left and they oh I don't know!"

In recent history RJ had earned plenty of experience dealing with such frantic speech thanks to Hammy, although the squirrel seemed to have far less self doubt. "Slow down! Are they coming or not? Take a deep breath and tell me."

"I. . .I…um." There was the sound of a few deep breaths, and then the owner of the voice crawled to the edge of the cage and peeked through the bars.

A brown furred rabbit looked down at RJ, shaking for unknown reasons. His ears were of medium length, and stood rigidly above his head, seemingly infused with the same energy that was causing his body to tremble. Even from the distance, his healthy girth was visible, nearly giving him the appearance of a long eared guinea pig. Dark brown eyes shown from beneath a mop of fur on his brow; as he looked downward a paw pushed it aside so that he would have a better view.

"I don't know," the rabbit squeaked helplessly.

"Where did they go?" RJ then asked. "Can you tell me that?"

"Soccer game," he said quickly, leaning further into the bars so that his furry tummy pressed through them a bit. "The girl plays and they went for that. I saw her all dressed up when they left."

"Oh really?" RJ said mischievously. He stroked at his chin and pondered the situation. The humans would clearly be gone a long time. There was no way they would go out for just that, at least from his experience, and the games seemed to take forever on their own. He was always amazed at how humans could run around for over an hour with nothing happening in most cases. Perhaps it was the hotdogs given away at each youth game that brought them there. "I may be around a while then."

"Oh good you can let me out of here! You have time!" the rabbit said.

"Whoa whoa whoa, no." RJ held out his hands, palms facing forward as he waved them. "I'm only here for the food. You're on your own."

Verne had finally made his way into the room. He stopped a few feet back from the cage, glancing upward. "I think you should let him out."

There was an excited yelp from above. "Do what the turtle says! You don't know what it's like in here! They never let me out except to clean the cage and when they do that they hold me so I can't even go anywhere and them I'm back in here and it's so small. Oh, and rabbits are supposed to be social animals. I saw it on Animal Planet. This is bad. Bad!" He fell over dramatically and then pulled himself back to his feet, looking down through the bars with his hands tightly clenching them. A quick puff of air blew the fur out of his eyes again. "You can't leave me here."

"We can't run away with everyone's pet," RJ protested. "Besides can you imagine him and Hammy in the same place?"

"That's not a good excuse," Verne said. "He shouldn't have to live like this."

"But he clearly gets all the food he wants. And look, he has TV!" He quickly pointed at the giant set, his arm held rigidly. "It sounds like he's living it up."

"I mean the cage."

"Ah right," RJ said. "But if we take him isn't that stealing?"

Stunned, Verne paused as his eyes roamed back into the kitchen to see the two bags on the floor, along with the various rejected items. It took him a moment to find the words to speak again. "Since when have you felt bad about stealing?" he asked flatly, and then gave his attention to the rabbit. "We'll let you free, don't worry. You can come with us. What's your name?"

"Thank you! Just pull up on this latch here," came a jubilant, frantic reply as he shook a finger at the latch in question. "It's Duncan! They got my name off a cake box!"

"Do we have to let him come?" RJ asked. "I can set him free and he can run off on his own. We need to be thinking about those lost twinkies."

"He'll come with us. He has nowhere else to go," Verne said, shaking his head sadly. "I really thought that you had learned something about family. I really did."

"I did and I feel sorry for him but that's not why we're here." He grumbled as he gnawed on his lip, pondering the situation. The only thing on his mind was finding the twinkies and leaving before he was caught. While it had been better, there was still a selfish streak living within him, and it could resurface at inappropriate moments. It was the same streak that had nearly cost him so much recently, that had nearly left him as a "family of one," as he had put it. Yet, this situation did not seem to hold the same weight, not until he remembered what it was like to be alone.

It did not take long. "You had to use the F word, didn't you?"

Verne nodded. "Guilt is good for motivation."

RJ rubbed at his brow wearily, and then reluctantly turned his eyes up to the cage. "Okay Mr. Hines, I'll let you-"

"-It's Duncan!" he interrupted.

"Yes, _Duncan_. I'll let you out, but you have to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"You're going to show me where these humans keep the twinkies. I know they have them."

"I promise! Hurry hurry hurry!" Duncan hopped in place with an excited smile that showed off his large incisors; they were longer than they should have been, the result of an improper diet.

"Good," RJ said with a devilish grin.

Realizing that there was no safe way to get the cage off of the stand, he improvised a landing pad. He climbed onto the couch, and threw all of the pillows onto the floor under the cage, effectively softening the floor. Then, he used the shelves as a ladder, accidentally knocking off a few picture frames in the process, and finally jumping on top of the cage once he had reached the top of the shelf. He nearly missed, and had the cage been about two inches further away, he would have busted his jaw on the bars, and then ended up on his back on the floor.

The locking mechanism was on top, far out of reach from within. He looked down through the crisscrossing bars to see Duncan watching him with fascination, still shaking as though he would explode at any moment. Fortunately the lock was a simple hook that only had to be lifted. Before he did this, he addressed the rabbit. "You need to jump onto the pillows when I open this. If you don't and hurt yourself, I'm not responsible. Got it?"

"Mmhm mmhm!" came an enthusiastic response. "On the pillows. Don't miss. Right got it!"

Following the sound of metal rubbing against metal, the door swung open, and then RJ heard what resembled half a bark, half a squeal. He looked down just in time to see Duncan leap from the cage, doing a belly flop onto the pillows. "No not like-" It was too late. He watched as he hit the cushions with a thud, rolled off of them, and only stopped when he slammed into the leg of the couch.

Duncan hopped onto his feet just as quickly, shook his head, and looked around the room. He held his arms to the side, in disbelief that they were not bumping into bars. "Hey I'm free. I'm free I'm free I'm free I'm free," he said, his words accelerating and his pitch rising to the end. Near hyperventilation, he fell onto his rump while every part of his body quivered.

RJ came to the floor with much more grace. There was hardly a sound as his feet hit the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked, scratching his head. "I didn't make you jump like that."

"Of course!" Duncan laughed in such a way that it seemed to be forced. "I have lots of padding. No problems! And hey, _wow_, you're skinny!"

"Um, yes. And you're. . ." He took a moment to size him up now that he had a clear view. There was definitely some padding on Duncan's frame. ". . .you look like Verne."

"RJ!" Verne scowled, digging his fists into his side. "What does that mean?"

"Hey, I just tell it like I see it, Tubby."

"Wow! You could call him Tubby the Turtle!" Duncan said, his face bright with an even bigger smile.

"Aww," RJ teased.

"No," Verne said with an annoyed cough, his eyes narrowing. "No Duncan. It's Verne, and nothing else. Do you understand? My name is Verne."

"Okay, Verne. Yes! Oh I haven't thanked you yet RJ." Very quickly he looked from side to side as he took a breath, as though the release of his words forced the rest of his body to move again. "Thank you!"

RJ felt the breath almost knocked out of him as Duncan pounced and gripped him in a tight bear hug. He was suddenly afraid that his ribs would be crushed. "Urk, er, okay. You're welcome. Let go. Please," he said in a strained voice, his teeth tightly clenched together. Unsure of what else to do, he lightly pat him on the back and looked at Verne for help.

"Let go Duncan," Verne said flatly. "You've thanked him enough."

Finally he released, causing RJ to gasp for air. "Why does everyone try to kill me with hugs now?" he asked rhetorically.

Verne answered anyway. "Because we all love you," he said with a smirk.

"And _I_ love the twinkies. Where are they?"

An awkward silence filled the room. Duncan's eyes fell to the carpet, and his left foot tapped nervously. He hummed to himself, as though trying to block all other sounds and thoughts. "Umm, well I-I umm. Yeah."

"What?"

After a very quick glance at RJ, his gaze returned to the floor. "I don't really know," he said with a sheepish squeak, his arms locking behind his back.

"What!" RJ spat. "But you promised! Verne, help me throw this liar back in the cage."

Before anyone could respond, the room was silenced again as three doors slammed outside. The three listened intently to the sound of approaching voices, including what sounded like the sobs of a young girl; RJ thought he could hear her saying, "They cheated."

Upon hearing a jingling set of keys, Duncan sucked in a ragged breath, his eyes fixated on the front door. "They're back!" he yelped, and within the same breath, turned and sprinted into the back yard.

"Wait! We have to get what I came for!" RJ said to the empty space that had just contained Duncan.

Verne was all ready on his way out the back. He looked over his shoulder as he ran. "Then stay and get caught. Maybe you'll learn a lesson." The next moment, he too was gone.

"Cowards!" All alone, RJ breathed heavily as he fought with himself about what to do. The sound of a turning doorknob made the decision for him. Bounding up the couch in a blur, he jumped off the back, landed on the carpet with the ease of a cat, and then hurried into the kitchen to grab the bag of chips and muffins. Once on the tile, he slid from how fast he moved, nearly falling on his side as he grabbed for them. The crinkling of thin plastic was accompanied by the opening of the front door, along with the distraught girl who seemed inconsolable.

An angry man's voice came from the front hall. "Hey! Who left the back door open?"

Clutching the bags to his chest, RJ ran at full speed to the door. He had no time to hide. The air rushing past his ears bit at them, and in his panic it seemed as though the door grew further with each step.

The scratchy voice of the girl grew closer, and it suddenly became a shriek. "Duncan's gone! He ran away! Daddy you better get me a new bunny. _Now_!"

It was the last thing RJ heard as he slipped into the back yard. He did not stop running until he reached the edge of the hedge, and was safely on the other side. With his back against the leaves, he collapsed, feeling the bag of chips. Most had been crushed into a thin powder from how tightly he had held them. With a great feeling of loss and helplessness, he tossed the bag aside, and helped himself to a muffin from the other.

As the chocolate massaged his tongue, he sighed and wondered what happened to Verne, and then very reluctantly, Duncan.


	2. Two Promises

Chapter 2

Two Promises

A second empty bag of muffins drifted to the grassy floor. RJ watched its descent as he smacked his lips and idly scratched his chest. His thought that maybe Verne could come find him dwindled as quickly as his desire to stay awake. As his eyelids became weights sliding to the Earth, he took the invite and began to drift away with his back still against the hedge. Before he had finally made it to a dream, he let his eyes leisurely open and close, the pace relaxing each time.

An indistinguishable red blur ended up crossing his vision. Even with his eyes mostly lidded, RJ could see it. It remained, and appeared to be growing closer. Soon it became impossible to ignore, whatever it was. He rocked his head from side to side, picking up the speed a bit as his body gained awareness. He smacked his lips again, and then rubbed at his eyes until he began to see stars. Once these were gone, he glanced forward with his eyes opened as widely as his half asleep state would allow.

The blur began to focus. It was Hammy. He had his hands gently crossed under his chest, and his head slightly cocked to the side as he glanced downward. He brought a bright, toothy smile. "Hi RJ!"

"Oh hello Hammy," he said after a yawn, and then managed a smile of his own. "You're just the cheerful face I could use right now."

"Whatcha mean?" He leaned over a little to make it easier to see him. His ears twitched in anticipation.

"The heist failed, unless you count this. . ." he trailed off a moment as he picked up the now empty bag of muffins. "The chips were crushed, and worst of all, no twinkies. These ones were extra creamy too."

"Oh, you should let me come next time!" Hammy said, rapidly bouncing from side to side on his feet a bit, as though running in place. His tail wiggled eagerly.

RJ had been staring at his own feet, but slowly looked up at him as he gave a lazy smile. "We always succeed don't we?" he said with a touch of warmth.

"We do great!"

"Yeah I'll take you again next time," he added with little hesitation. "I think we make a good team, at least when you don't get distracted."

"Hey look! A butterfly!" Hammy pointed at the orange and black winged insect fluttering a short distance above them. His eyes followed the movements, in seemingly no pattern. Eventually the butterfly came closer, resting on the tip of his nose. Watching it with a childlike joy, Hammy ever so carefully nudged it, causing it to fly away. The beating of the wings by his nose tickled, and he sneezed with a high pitched "chew."

"Yes I see," RJ said, thankful that the sneeze had been aimed elsewhere. "And I know you won't bring back any unwanted guests if you come. I only have to worry about you wanting to get extra cookies."

"Did Verne?"

After an extremely irritated moan, which involved temple rubbing and eye clenching, he answered. "Yes. We brought a rabbit back with us, and it's his fault we didn't get what we went for."

"Rabbit? Rabbit rabbit um. . ." Hammy thumped his head with his knuckles as he desperately tried to remember.

"The fat one. Can't miss him," RJ sputtered.

Somewhere within the squirrel's head a faint spark appeared. "Oh! Yeah him. He's over there!" Hammy chirped, pointing over his shoulder. Duncan could be seen in the distance, surrounded by most of the others. The only members of the family that were missing were the porcupines, who had gone for a walk.

"Rats!" He snapped his fingers and blew out his lips in defeat.

"No, not rats. Rabbit!"

"Right Hammy. Thanks," RJ said with a subtle roll of his eyes. The human expressions generally tended to be lost on his friend.

"I'm going to go see him okay? I want to say hi! Maybe he'd like a cookie." Without waiting, he zipped away, and was soon no more than a rippled trail along the grass.

"Wait Hammy, don't. . ."

". . .have to tell me," Ozzie had been saying. "Why, didn't you, die?"

"Die?" Duncan said, his face wrinkling in horror. "That wouldn't have helped me to escape at all. Why would you say such a thing?"

"It's easy. You just lay down, and-"

"-dad, stop it! You're totally creeping him out." Heather averted her eyes, eventually trying to smile as she addressed Duncan, however the expression was distorted from her embarrassment. "Don't listen to him. He says that to everyone." Suddenly her voice dropped to a near whisper. "I'm not even sure if we're related."

"Of course you are! You look just like him!"

Heather paused as she wrestled with her disappointment. "Do I really?"

"No, that's good!" Duncan said, nodding his head vigorously. "Because that means you're cute!"

"I, um, eh, oh," Heather muttered, taken back by the comment. "I am?" Beneath her fur was an intense blush that warmed her cheeks. She retreated a few paces, folding her arms behind her back, and her long tail rocked back and forth in the grass. She swallowed a rock as her eyes traveled to the grass, and then slowly back to meet his. "You think I'm-"

"-of course!" Duncan interrupted. "You have pretty eyes! Ooh ooh, okay, it's my turn! I want to ask you guys questions now."

"Go right ahead!" Stella said. "But I ain't answering anything personal."

"Wait, he thinks I'm cute?" Ozzie asked under his breath.

"Okay," Duncan began, gesturing with his arms in a heavy downward motion as he spoke. "Where, do you keep, your lettuce? I need it. That's what rabbits do! Oh, and carrots! Where are those? It's time for me to be a real rabbit now that I'm free."

"Well," Verne said. "We have berries and grass, but none of what you want. You should try some of our delicious bark."

Heather had finally recovered enough to reply. "Yeah Verne, if you want to torture him," and then addressed Duncan. "That stuff is really gross. We just eat the humans' food now. It's much better."

A simultaneous gasp and squawk escaped him. "What? No no, you can't be serious," he said in disbelief. He dug at his cheeks as he looked around the group, pulling down on his bottom lip. "Why would you do that? This stuff is bad for you!"

"The food that RJ has brought us is most exquisite," Ozzie answered with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"Are cookies bad?" came a timid, worried voice.

Duncan's head snapped around to see Hammy watching from behind the others. "Oh sure, they're sweet and delicious, but look what they do to you!" As he said this he firmly gripped his belly and wiggled it.

"They make you cuddly?" Hammy asked.

"No! I mean, I guess I'm cuddly, but they make you fat and weak and give you heart problems."

Wrinkling his lips and staring upward, Hammy pondered this. He tapped his fingers on his fuzzy chin. The confusion slowly melted into a relieved grin. "Oh you poor rabbit. You're confused!" he said once he had finally made the connection. "I do that every winter and then when I wake up I'm a skinny squirrel!"

"No, you don't understand. Being fat _all year_ isn't natural. It's bad for you!"

"Hey, _my_ man likes big butts," Stella said with a tone as though she had been insulted. She dug her fists into her hips, but then quickly gestured at Tiger's rear. "Just look at his!"

"This is true. I cannot lie," he said after a moment's hesitation.

Duncan was close to hopping up and down in frustration. "But all this junk is loaded with trans fats. Those are the bad ones. We can't do this! You don't want saturated fats either, and let me tell you, everything that raccoon wants you to eat is going to kill you! Why can't we just do things right? Why!" By the time he had finished speaking, he was breathing heavily as though he had just gone for a vigorous run. The tuft of fur over his eyes decided to fall over again, which he blew out of the way with a heavy puff.

Had there been any crickets out that afternoon, they would have been heard. The group looked at each other, various pairs of eyes meeting new ones, as no one knew how to respond, and some wondered if they even should. Amidst the silence, several uncomfortable murmuring began to grow.

"Why is he using such big words?"

"That wasn't very nice to talk about RJ like that."

"I still want a cookie."

"Having a little extra meat on my bones is a sign of status!"

"Does he really think I'm cute?"

Duncan's own eyes skipped around in the awkward silence that returned after the voices had faded. He was at a loss for a response. Part of him was extremely disappointed that he may have to eat like he had before, and part of him was worried that he had said something wrong. Upsetting a possible new group of friends had not been part of his plan. Up until then, everything had seemed fine. Stella and Heather in particular seemed fascinated enough to ask him a number of questions, including what his favorite show was; it was secretly Family Matters, but he said Survivor instead. Just as he was beginning to feel trapped and frightened, he saw a safety net in the form of a certain raccoon.

"RJ RJ!" he called, hopping in the air to see over Tiger, and waving his arm in a wide, overly excited arc.

"Well Cupcake, at least you know my name," RJ said as he came to a stop behind Hammy.

"No, it's Duncan. Remember?"

"Hm," he coughed, and then lied. "For some reason I don't. What a shame. Kind of like how I didn't get those _twinkies_." An eye twitch, along with a tight clenching of his fists and a sudden increase in vocal intensity accompanied the final word.

"W-w-well we'll fix it. Somehow," Duncan stuttered. Even though he was all ready a good deal shorter than RJ, he suddenly felt even smaller.

RJ answered as though his words were fact. "Yes we will. And now I need to speak to you-" he glanced at the others as his voice lowered, "-privately."

Hammy spun around, looking up at him with a slightly worried look in his eye. "What're you gonna do RJ?"

"Nothing," he said coolly as he stepped into the circle and took him by the shoulder. "We just need to talk. Now come on Brownie."

"It's Duncan. . ."

They walked for a quite some time, getting deeper into the network of trees. The further away from the suburbs they walked, the denser the trees became, and thus less sunlight could peep through to the ground. Stray leaves crunched under their feet, a few antiphonal bird songs sounded, and the always present rumble of distant cars rushed by in the distance. Duncan looked about, his eyes turned to the overhead canopy. The longer they walked, the more nervous he grew. He was lost. Suddenly, freedom no longer sounded like a great idea. "Where are we going?" he asked, unable to hide the trembling of his voice.

"Right here." RJ stopped, and turned to face him, placing his hands firmly on his shoulders.

"Look, I just felt the need to warn you about something. You see, I saved you, and now I feel responsible for you."

Duncan touched his toes together awkwardly, while dodging the gaze that was trying to pierce his thoughts. "That's very nice of you RJ," he said. "But warn me about what?"

"Well my plump little friend," he began, adding exaggerated pathos to his voice. "I hear there are wild dogs out here. I just, just don't want you to come out here all alone at night. You know they eat rabbits I'm sure. With all of that TV you watch, you have to know."

A sudden chattering of teeth was cut short as Duncan slammed his hand against his mouth. "Really?" he said in a nervous squeak. "But you won't let them get me will you?"

"Of course not! I promise. Well, if you promise me something in return."

"What's that?"

Suddenly RJ abandoned his act, and adopted a serious tone. His eyes buried deeper into Duncan's mind as his hands tightened their grip. "Look, I really wanted those twinkies, so you're not on my good side right now. Promise you'll get me some, and maybe we can be friends. Understand?"

Duncan winced from the tight grip on his shoulders. "I do, but are they that important? You're free, so you should eat good stuff, like real raccoons. I think you're a slave to sugar, and that makes me sad."

RJ took a step back, releasing his grip. He hastily inspected his body before returning his attention to Duncan. "No, I just checked. I'm a real raccoon."

"And that's why you should-"

"-but I don't do fish. Sorry."

"Then what about wheat?"

RJ turned around in a circle as he inspected the area. "Wheat? Where?"

"I guess not. Eggs? Those are good!"

"No."

"Corn?"

"Too much trouble."

"Berries?"

"Too fruity."

"Well how about some lettuce? Surely you can eat that."

RJ's brow lowered suspiciously as he forced himself to gag. "No. In fact, I don't want to hear another word about that-that stuff. Ick. Now hurry up and make your promise. I think I just heard a bark."

"Okay okay! I promise I'll help you." He had no idea how he was going to do this, but felt he had no time to think with the fear of becoming dog food looming over his mind.

"That's all I needed. Thank you, Cupcake."

Duncan ignored the name, and after an awkward silence, spoke up once more. "You really should try other things. You might like them. And, if you keep eating like you do, you won't live very long." He knelt down and pulled up some grass, waving it under RJ's nose like a rattle. "See? Mmmm! Grass! It's good for you!"

The grass was roughly swatted to the ground. "I said no! I don't need diet advice from a sausage."

"Oh," he began, but then stopped. His ears grew as close to drooping as they could, while his eyes plummeted. "That was kind of mean."

"So was trying to make me eat lettuce." RJ began to make his way back to the log as he said this, turning to face Duncan as he passed. "Now hurry up."

Motionless for a moment, he shook his head and then scampered after him. "I didn't mean to upset you! I just want to help! I'm worried."

The only reply was the ongoing birdsong.

_suck suck gurgle_

High atop a tree near the family's log, and over looking the suburbs, sat RJ and Hammy. They had been watching the remainder of the day pass, although RJ's main focus happened to be the antics of his new acquaintance. He had been watching with an almost fanatical obsession since climbing onto the branch, and parking himself beside the squirrel.

_suck gurgle slurp_

RJ watched as Duncan fell onto his back, and began rolling around in the dirt, swinging his hips wildly from side to side like a dog. He then hopped to his feet, shook, tried to bite an unseen object on his ear, and in the process, toppled onto his belly. From there he began to nibble at the grass ravenously. Once finished, he rolled around some more, and then stopped to pull up the nearby grass and toss it into the air with a joyous giggle.

_slurp gurgle suck gurgle_

RJ smacked his forehead. He genuinely began to wonder if the sudden freedom had caused Duncan to lose his mind. His jaw hung open as he slowly shook his head from to side, and watched as Duncan returned to his feet to prance around the trees with his arms high in the air. A satisfied chuckle escaped as he saw him trip and hit the ground face first.

_suck suck suck_

Ozzie came into view. He strolled past under the branch, finally bumping into Duncan. They began an unheard conversation, but judging from the smiles (RJ decided to get a closer look via a pair of plastic kids' binoculars that he had found in someone's yard recently,) it was going well. After speaking for a few minutes Ozzie found a handful of grass offered to him.

"No, don't take it," RJ said helplessly. He dropped the binoculars into his lap and held his arms out in a pleading fashion. "Please don't. Oh you are. Great. Don't actually eat it at least."

He did.

After chewing it for a while, Ozzie swallowed, said something to Duncan that was accompanied by a pleased smile, and then continued on his way with a swish of his long, naked tail.

_gurgle gurgle gurgle_

"Look at him Hammy! See what he's doing?" RJ said fervently, his eyes still focused below.

_suck_

"He's trying to turn Ozzie into a grass eater. Where does he get the nerve to do this?"

_gurgle_

"Eh hammy? Hammy? Haaaammy," he said, holding onto the name after not receiving a response. Suddenly he turned in his direction and called with a bit more force. "_Hammy!_"

Hammy nearly leapt ten feet into the air. "What what! What happened?"

"Nothing," he sighed. "Your juice carton has been empty since I came up here. Just put it down. Please."

Turning the carton upside down, Hammy pulled out the straw and looked closely at the opening. He shook the carton to be sure, and indeed there was nothing. Suddenly struck with an epiphany, he tossed his juice aside and looked at RJ with his tail doing a jittery dance. "So that's why nothing was coming out!"

"Were you listening to me at all?

His attention at the sky, Hammy hummed a bit, considering the question. "No," he said in a very matter-of-fact manner.

"I didn't think so. Now look at him." RJ brought his finger between Hammy's eyes, and then traced it down to Duncan, who was now offering Tiger grass as well. "See what he's doing? Cats don't eat vegetables! He's going to ruin us!"

"Aww, I think he's cute. He just needs a friend."

Gnawing on his lip, RJ grumbled to himself. "No no, not cute. Bad. He's bad Hamilton. Bad. Understand? It's his fault you don't get twinkies, with _extra_ filling."

"But, you're the one that likes the twinkies. Remember?"

"Well I'm sure he wouldn't want you to have cookies either!"

"What?" Hammy whimpered. "No cookies? Why's he so mean?"

Seeing an opportunity to help himself, he scooted closer and brought his arm around Hammy's shoulder. "I don't know Hammy. I just don't know," he said warmly, looking him in the eye. "You're my best friend, so can you promise me something?"

"Yeah sure!"

"Don't listen to what he says. I don't think he can be trusted, and I'd feel terrible if he manipulated you in any way."

"Hey I promise!"

"Good." RJ pulled him close in a firm hug, mainly to hide his twisted grin.


	3. Mud Puddle

Chapter 3

Mud Puddle

A few long days later, RJ groggily strolled through a thick patch of the forest, while Hammy indiscreetly tagged along with a carefree bounce to his step. Even with an overcast sky, the morning was unusually hot, even for mid summer. Had either of the two possessed sweat glands, they would have been drenched. The baking grass had grown stiff and brittle, as well as adopting a brown hue from lack of water; as they walked, it crinkled under their feet like a floor of old wrapping paper.

They had been walking aimlessly for around an hour, not talking to each other much at all. RJ was not even sure why Hammy was still there, as he seemed to be quite bored from the way he felt the need to stop and play with nearly every stray object left on the ground, as well as striking up a conversation with a rock that looked strangely like Simon Cowell. Unfortunately, it did not reply, but for a brief moment, Hammy was convinced that it had told him that he had less talent than a dung beetle with a broken wing.

On the other hand, RJ remained quiet, as he was too deep in thought to bother. The supposed lost twinkies remained at the front of his thoughts. He knew that he should have had them by then. Not only that, but a few more boxes could have easily been his. He even knew that he _could_ have had them if he went on his own, but there was no chance he was going to let Duncan get by without replacing them. He thought of how delicious they must be with the extra cream filling. He imaged the sweet, golden treats having an erotic tango with his tongue. This gave way to thoughts of himself, fat and happy atop a mountain of twinkies, while the others fed and pampered him.

Of course that would never be if he was going to be forced to eat lettuce. That, along with other intolerable foods continued to worry him. Nearly everyone had begun to not only try them, but in some cases, enjoy them. Ozzie in particular had become quite the grass and carrot fan. Heather had begun to alternate her cheesy chips with berries. Verne, along with the porcupines, had returned to eating bark. Even Stella had taken up a salad once a day, and against his will, so had Tiger. That left one other that had yet to be ruined.

RJ glanced to his side to see that Hammy was still with him. He smiled inwardly, but continued to wear the scowl that accompanied his thoughts of recent events. As they walked, Hammy took a moment to rub at his eyes, and once he was finished, frantically waved his hands as he tried to catch the spots that appeared. A few minutes later, he admitted defeat, but not before letting the spots know that he would get them next time.

With his thoughts returning to Duncan, RJ stewed over how the others could give him so much attention. Why? RJ wondered. After all, they were _his_ friends, not Duncan's. He had found them first. But no, it was as if he did not exist any longer. Apparently, whatever he did or had to say was not nearly as interesting as the ridiculous utterances made by the long eared, sausage shaped pest, who probably had fleas, and lice, and ticks. . .and dry skin. RJ honestly could not see any reason for the infatuation, and that angered him even further.

His mind was suddenly interrupted by a sharp pain in his palms. Wincing, he looked down to see that he had been digging his claws into them. A sliver of blood shone on his right. This he quickly licked up, not only to ease the pain, but to also hide the evidence before Hammy saw it. He did not need him to worry. Once he was clean, RJ stopped, and then dropped to his rump on the dry, grassy floor, directly beneath a shaded patch. Intense beams of heat continued to cut through the openings between the branches.

"I want more juice!" Hammy chirped as he sat. His tail wiggled, unintentionally bumping RJ in the cheek.

"Then we'll get some next time. Put it on our list," he said. He leaned forward so that his face rested in his hands. Wearily he rubbed around his faux mask and over his brow. Slowly, he spread the fingers on his left hand so that he could peep through them, looking over at Hammy. "Hey," he began. "Have you been listening to him?"

"Who?"

"Duncan," he replied quickly, still gazing through his fingers.

Hammy's eyes rolled upward as he thought. They made a leisurely arch away from RJ before traveling to the ground. Finally, he remembered. "Nope! Just like you told me!" he said while his tiny ears twitched happily.

"Good. So nothing at all?"

"Nothing!"

RJ let his fingers slide down his face as his hands came to rest on the ground, momentarily stretching his lower eyelids in the process. "Hmm, so you won't even listen to him if he offers you a cookie?"

"But RJ, you said he doesn't want me to have them," he said, an eye twitching with confusion.

"Ah hah!" RJ sat up straight with a proud smirk. His arms crossed under his chest. "He doesn't! I was just testing you."

"Oooh, okay!" he said with a toothy smile.

"And I _knew_ you'd get it right!" RJ gave him a playful poke on the chest to emphasize his words.

"You did?" Hammy squeaked.

"Mmhm! Because I know how smart you are."

"Aww!" Hammy quickly scooted over to show his thanks with a hug.

Having all ready anticipated this, RJ held his breath beforehand, and once he was freed from the suffocating squeeze, his ears swiveled to a nearby thumping sound. It was very rapid, like chattering teeth. "Do you hear a woodpecker?"

It did not take long for Hammy to find the sound. "Yeah he's right there!" he said, pointing several trees in the distance. "And he's got big ears!"

"Birds don't have ears, Hammy," RJ said as he stood to check out the source of the sound. After a few steps, he squinted, and it became clear to him that what was assaulting the tree was in fact not a wood pecker, but something far more obnoxious. Glancing over his shoulder, he muttered to Hammy. "It's not a bird. That there is our favorite moron, and he's not doing anything to prove otherwise."

"Yay!"

"No Hammy, that's not a good thing, but come on." RJ motioned forward with his hand, and then trotted off toward the tree. As he drew closer, his pace became slower until his walk was more of a strut, complete with hands held behind his back.

Duncan was attached to the tree while he hastily gnawed away at the bark, only occasionally pausing to breathe. Exaggerated chomping sounds accompanied each bite, as though the noise was helping. He had all ready stripped a healthy amount of bark and showed no signs of slowing. Just to his right was a bare patch on the tree, about the size of a coffee cake.

RJ came to a stop and quirked a brow. "Duncan Donuts, what are you doing?"

Duncan pulled away from the tree to face him as he nose wiggled. "M tying t'mile m'teef."

"What?"

"You have to go a mile for beef!" Hammy asked, horrified. "Oh no! You poor rabbit!"

"Nu. M'teef." Duncan coughed, and then turned his head to spit a mouthful of bark onto the grass, just beside his feet. "My teeth! Oh RJ, they're driving me crazy! They're so long and they're itching me and I need to file them down now and this tree isn't helping too much but I don't know what else to do my human never gave me anything to chew I'm just trying to be like a beaver. But, you know, hakuna matata." He paused to catch his breath, and then sunk his teeth back into the tree like an apple.

It took a moment for RJ to respond. His brow wrinkled, and he glanced back at Hammy, partially in hopes that he had better understood the nonsense, and would thus say something first. "What was that? I do think all of that lettuce is making you crazy." He cleared his throat. "Crazier."

Duncan detached himself from the tree once more, this time spitting out a beetle that had managed to get to close to his mouth. "Sorry little guy!" he called to it as it stumbled away through the grass. "Now what I said. Um, what did I say?" he then asked with a nervous tapping of his foot.

"Kahuna tomato!" Hammy said, complete with an excited waving of his arms above his head.

RJ simply shot him a smirk. "Ew."

"Oh!" Duncan happily hopped as he remembered. "It's a little phrase I heard once. Hey, I know, let me teach it to you. It'll make you happy!"

"No," RJ said sourly. "Twinkies would make me happy. With extra filling."

"Oh just listen, okay? You don't need to be such a grumpy face. Hakuna matata." This he said slowly, giving emphasis to each syllable while his head bobbed in time.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, it means no worries. Say it with me. Hakuna matata."

"I don't think I will," RJ said, crossing his arms defiantly. "That has to be the dumbest thing you've said. Where did you get such nonsense?"

"Oh." Duncan nearly laughed as he slapped at his knee. "I heard it in a movie, and it was really sad. It had these lions and one died and one was really cute and then there was this fat pig thing."

"So you were in it?"

"No no! I only watched it. You don't understand."

"Never mind, Hostess."

"RJ!" Hammy suddenly interjected as he grabbed the raccoon's arm tightly and trembled. "What's a movie? It sounds scary."

"It's not scary, Hammy," he said as he firmly grabbed the hand and slid it off his arm. "Unless it was by Ron Howard. _Then_ it's scary. But normally a movie is-"

"Oh, wait wait! Let me guess. I think I know!" Hammy said, his eyes zipping from side to side as he thought. "Movie, movie, moo, move. Move! Hey, isn't that when you put fire ants in Verne's shell?

"No, Hammy, that's called comedy," RJ said with a grin.

"Oh, okay!" he said, nodding.

Duncan had become still. His jaw hung agape in disbelief. "You did that!" he squeaked.

"Oh yeah. It's the only way to get him to dance really," RJ said with indifference. He clicked his claws together on one hand as he spoke.

"That's terrible."

"I'll say!" Hammy added. "Verne is a bad dancer!"

"And he has a mildew problem."

"You two are really mean," Duncan said quietly. "I'm beginning to wonder if I really want to be your friend."

"Well, go get my twinkies, and you won't have to worry about it!" Suddenly, he remembered something from the other day. "I don't want to have to show those wild dogs where you are. You know I'll do it too, because I'm a bad raccoon. I'm _so_ bad."

"Oh no!" Duncan yelped. He began to gnaw on his fingers from nerves. "I forgot about them. Don't tell them, please!"

"Okay then, Pop N Fresh, you know what you have to do. Don't disappoint me."

Duncan was about to respond when he felt a water droplet land on his shoulder. He glanced upward as another splashed on his nose, followed by yet another. Soon they had accelerated into a full rain, much to the relief of the plant life, but not so much to him. Duncan's eyes opened widely as his fur was quickly soaked. Without a word, he dashed away until he was out of sight.

"Wait! Come back!" Hammy called after him. "Don't be afraid! It's just the sky peeing on you!"

A short while later, the rain was still pouring in full force. Duncan huddled in the log, just near the exit, while Stella and Tiger slept beside him; the big cat's snoring was like an echo to the distant rumbling of thunder. Tilting his head from side to side, and even attempting to stand upside down once, he did his best to get the water out of his ears, with little luck. He tightly wrapped his arms around his chest, looking downward at his feet while he shivered. It was more so from being frightened than cold. He hated storms. He always had.

Out the corner of his right eye, he saw Verne sitting outside in the rain as he enjoyed the chance for a wash. The turtle was sitting, with his feet pressed together, and hands on his knees. His eyes were peacefully closed. Rain bounced off the back of his shell, creating a hallow pitter patter, much like on a ceramic pot. The water that remained flowed through the channels between the plates, finally dribbling onto the grass past his tail.

"How can you sit out there?" Duncan asked him. His voice cracked as he tried to raise it enough to be heard through the rain.

Verne's eyelids resembled an old garage door as they sluggishly opened. "It's relaxing," he said, and then while pointing at the shell, added sheepishly, "And I need to keep this thing clean. It mildews."

"That's what RJ says."

"That doesn't surprise me," Verne said with a bit of a cough. "He's good at pointing out our faults."

"He keeps calling me a sausage."

Verne had to bite his tongue not to laugh. While a bit cruel, the resemblance could not be denied. "You shouldn't let it bother you. Keep in mind he only does it to make up for his own shortcomings."

"He's really mean. I try to be nice and helpful and he just won't like me.. I don't understand," Duncan said with a wild gesturing of his arms. "I'm no more than garbage to him."

"I think if you were garbage he'd be your best friend," Verne said matter-of-factly.

"You know what I mean!" Duncan thumped a fist against the bottom of the log. "I've tried to help him cheer up, and I've offered him some nice healthy foods, and I've been as nice as I can, but he won't stop acting like I'm some terrible rabbit. What's wrong?"

Verne sighed as he gradually made his way back into the log. He sat so that he could face Duncan. "The first thing you need to understand about RJ is that he is not going to eat anything like that. Stop trying to make him. That is part of why he resents you, really.

"But he needs it!" he said with a frustrated scratch to his voice.

"Duncan, he's stubborn. Very stubborn. Don't ask him anymore. You can't expect to change him. This isn't a movie. Life doesn't work that way."

"I, I guess so." Duncan wrinkled his nose as he looked at his feet. He had trouble believing it, and was about to protest, but then changed his mind. "What else?"

"I know he's still mad at you because he couldn't get the twinkies. That's another problem."

"But I didn't do it!"

Verne shrugged as he rested against the inside of the log. His eyes came close to lidding again. "Like I said, he's stubborn. He's convinced that it's your fault. Nothing will change between you two until you get them. Maybe if you can do that he'll finally be your friend."

"I promised him I would, but I don't know how," Duncan said with a helpless squeak.

Verne hummed to himself as he thought about a way to help. Unfortunately he had little idea. "When the rain stops, I'll ask Ozzie to help you," he finally said. "He's become quite good on food raids, so I'm sure he can help you do this. Until then, think of something nice to do for RJ."

"I thought you said to stop that."

"Do something nice that he would like, not that you think he would need."

"Oh." Duncan glanced at his feet again, his arms tightly hugging his damp chest as the thundering rain battered the log.

The storm continued until the late afternoon. Even after it had finished, rain continued to drip from the branches, and a heavy shower would occasionally occur as a gust of wind disturbed them. The ground had grown soggy, but it was a much welcome change from the brittle, dry earth that they had experienced the previous few weeks. Another welcomed result of the storm was that the air was, at least for the moment, much cooler.

Meanwhile, Duncan paced around in a circle, looking at something below him. He smiled, happily humming to himself while rubbing his hands together. He paused to think, still staring downward. After a minute of intense concentration, he decided that no, everything was perfect. "This will do!" he said with the biggest smile he had had in a while. "RJ has to like this!"

All he could do was wait, which he did. Duncan crossed his arms behind his back and rocked back and forth while keeping his eyes forward. An equally cheerful bird fluttered by, whistling a little song that was echoed moments later by a second bird. Fortunately, he did not have to wait too long, as RJ was seen strolling by with a bag of cheese flavored chips in his hand.

"Hey RJ! Come here! Look what I have for you!" Duncan called. He nearly toppled over from excitement.

A groan was heard, but then RJ actually smiled and hurried up to him. "What? Did you get them!" The bag in his hand crinkled as he looked around, peeking on either side of Duncan and frantically sniffing the air. He was salivating so much that the grass around him was further dampening from drool. "Where are they!"

"The what?"

"Twinkies! Did you get them?"

"Oh, no, not yet. But I made something for you. Look!" Duncan turned and pointed at the ground.

RJ looked down, but was baffled as he saw nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly no treats. "Huh? Congratulations my little snack cake, you found a muddy hole in the ground. Thanks for getting me excited for nothing," he grumbled.

"No it's not that! It's a swimming pool! I made it for you because I heard you like to swim." He waved a jittery, muddy paw at the ground again.

"That's just a mud puddle," RJ said flatly, and then crammed a hand full of chips into his mouth.

_Crunch._

_Yelp!_

_Splash._

Too stunned to move for a moment, Duncan pulled himself out of the puddle when he finally felt that he was suffocating. He shook the water off his face, and tried in vain to brush the mud off his chest with his all ready muddy hands. Breathing heavily, he watched RJ disappear into the distance with his ringed tail proudly swishing behind him. After blowing a bit of water out of his nose, Duncan looked down at the puddle and began to whimper, while he was teased with mock sounds of dog barks fading along with his new enemy.


	4. Night Walk

Chapter 4

Night Walk

Like a missile, Duncan sprung from his sleep, coming dangerously close to hitting his head on the top of the log. In fact, his ears cleanly grazed it, causing plenty of irritation that he had to scratch once he had landed. A hand gripped his heaving chest while his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness within the log. Little moonlight ever made it inside, and so he was left with the subdued glow at each end. Finally, he began to make out a few sleeping forms. All was normal. However, this realization did not calm his breathing immediately.

The first nightmare he had had in a long time remained with him, clawing, scratching, burning into his mind with the intensity of an angry fire ant swarm. But, it was only that: a nightmare. He continued to tremble as he thought of it, and did his best to take deep breaths, as he had seen on an infomercial once for yoga videos. After checking to make sure he was still in one piece, he held out his arms, rocking from side to side for a moment to feel if anything was there. There was only air.

Once finished, Duncan sighed in relief. He was not confined. He wanted to run outside and prance around the log, but images of the dream crushed the courage he had to do so.

Eventually his eyes had adjusted. A few steps before him was the porcupine family, with Verne just past them, sandwiched on the other side by Tiger, Stella, and then Hammy, who was curled up on RJ's chest. He wanted to speak to one of them about what had happened, but felt too guilty about waking them. Waking RJ in particular was definitely out of the question. The thought frightened him almost as much as the dream. Instead, he backed out into the grass, clinging to the entrance with a grip that made his hand ache. He had no fantasies of being able to get back to sleep then, and did not want to remain there in case he was a disturbance.

Once outside, his all ready alert senses began to work overtime. His ears burned as they stood at attention, anticipating the snarls of hungry dogs approaching. He could feel his legs aching with the desire to run for his life. He was not even sure if he could, as he had never had to run before, but the urge was there, and was slowly becoming overwhelming. His eyes jumped from tree to tree. Nothing was there, at least not that he could see. No scents, and no sounds out of the ordinary were there.

Along with the sounds of dogs, he kept his ears alert for human voices, in case his owners were looking for him. It was a fear that had resurfaced just then as he recalled being tossed back into his cage by the spoiled human girl. He could not shake the tight bars from his dream. They closed in tightly, suffocating, chilling him with a lifetime of living in confinement. He felt so small, so insignificant in there, and then outside stood RJ, five feet tall and mocking him while he munched a twinkie that dripped cream onto the grass.

The one use for the cage was protection from the outside world, but even then it did not save him from the insults that effortlessly permeated the metal sanctuary. He heard them all, over and over until his head throbbed with the raccoon's laughter. He tried to curl up and cover his ears, but his hands suddenly became lame, useless as a punctured balloon. "Go away!" he tried to scream as his last method of defense, but the words would not come. His voice had all ready fled.

_Sausage. Cupcake. Jelly Roll. Tons-of-Fun._

He had heard them all and more. At one point, Hammy zipped by and said that he "never sau-sage a rabbit", complete with a wild laugh, and encouragement from RJ. Duncan snapped out of his thoughts, sucking in his gut without even realizing it. He gave a glance back into the log as he shook his head sadly. Fatigue was coming to him again, but he could not go in there yet, not with his tormentor so close. He was more prepared to face hungry dogs than more insults. At least he could try to run from those.

With timid steps, Duncan eased away from the log. Once his hand left the bark, he suddenly felt alone and vulnerable, as though the entire forest was watching him. With a frightened gasp, he dashed to the nearest tree, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. He tightly hugged the trunk, and then closed his eyes tightly.

He wondered what he would do in the morning. He knew what he had to do. _How _was still another matter. The only place he knew of that might have the twinkies was his old home, and he feared what would happen if he went back in the house. Part of his nightmare coming true was almost a certainty, and if it did, he did not trust that he would ever be rescued a second time. However, there seemed to be no other way to get them. He thought about how Ozzie was supposed to help, but he could not wait much longer. He did not even know if Verne had spoken to him about it yet.

Even without the need to end the bullying, a part of Duncan still wanted to impress RJ. He could not figure out why, but he looked up to him, and wanted to gain his respect. Perhaps it was because he saw him as his savior and still had admiration for him because of it. Or, maybe it was because RJ often seemed to be the head of the family, and if he was going to ever feel like part of it, he would need his acceptance. Whatever it was, he could not settle on a reason, and wondered if it was a combination of many other things. Regardless, he had to make it up to him before the tension between the two grew even worse.

Duncan wearily shook his head. His eyes remained closed as he held onto the tree, giving it a hug that comforted him slightly. He wished that it could hug in return. After a few somber breaths, he slowly opened his eyes and let them travel up the tree until his neck began to hurt from bending back so sharply. The branches above remained completely still. Not a breeze stirred that night. However, water still coated the trees, which he was reminded of when a droplet of water splashed between his eyes.

Wincing, Duncan wiped the water off of his fur, and then noticed something else that he had not seen before. A series of characters was carved into the bark, and surrounded by a crudely etched oval. Had he been able to read, he would have known that they said: "Mildude haz shell odor."

Finally, he pulled away from the tree. He slowly turned his head to face the log, but then quickly turned away, staring aimlessly ahead into the darkness with a nearly inaudible whimper. It was not time.

The girl's voice crept back to him. "There's Dunny Bunny!" came its sour whine as she picked up the cage from the grass, thereby rescuing him from the giant form of RJ. His surroundings flashed by in a blur of colors: greens, blues, and whites that swirled together like a tie-dyed shirt pattern. The cage was carelessly tossed back onto the TV stand, and as a result, he slipped and bumped his head against one of the bars. As he rubbed the bruise, he saw the girl's face hovering before him with a scolding gaze around her upturned nose. "Bad Dunny! You better not leave again!" she said through a hole in her face where a missing baby tooth had yet to be replaced. Her breath carried the scent of bologna and a strawberry fruit drink that had been eaten hours ago.

Quick, shallow breaths accompanied the thought. His teeth began to chatter as he tried to control it, and the chattering spread all the way to his feet as they began to thump the ground. But as he stood under the soft moonlight, he knew that he would have to return to her to set things right.

His breath was cut short from a sudden growl. Duncan yelped and flattened himself against the tree as he looked around for the predator. However, the predator was from within. He was hungry. Very hungry. So much he would have given to be able to eat like RJ again, but the vegetables and berries were good for him. They would help him lose his unsettling paunch that gracelessly rubbed against his thighs whenever he walked. Yes, his new diet was the right thing to do. It would help him. Thin was beautiful after all, as he had learned from TV. The more ribs showing, the better.

There would be no more sausage jokes either.

Duncan thought he felt another drop of water from the tree, but quickly noticed that it was his mouth watering instead as he thought about devouring an extra thick ice cream sandwich. He wiped a paw over his mouth, and then shook his head to remove the impure thought. It did little to help. The cool, creamy, chocolaty treat lead a junk food parade in his mind. It was soon followed by cheesy puffs, coconut cookies, and a trio of Spuddies cans that did flips and other tricks for him as they begged to be eaten.

In frustration, he clawed at his cheeks. "No!" he said, stomping his foot into the still damp soil. "I am _not_ a junk food rabbit!"

His words evaporated into silence as the various treats disappeared into puffs of colored smoke.

Glancing back at the log once more, he felt his eyes fighting to close. They watered from fatigue, dampening like the grass below. The tears blurred his vision as though glancing through a waterfall. These he blinked away, but felt his eyes trying to close again, more adamantly this time. He yawned and finally gave in to his desire to sleep. The fears remained, but were less paralyzing than when he woke.

It was time.


	5. Twinkie Soft

Chapter 5

Twinkie Soft

RJ abruptly woke from a dream in which someone was jabbing him in the ribs with a golf club. The pain remained, and as he rubbed his eyes, the gradual focusing brought to light the agitated face of a certain squirrel, who just happened to be kicking him in the side every few moments. Just as he was about to tell him to stop, RJ noticed that he was asleep, and then simply lifted him by the scruff of his neck, and set him to the side. Hammy's leg continued to twitch, apparently excited by his dreams.

With a heavy smacking of his lips, RJ pulled himself to his feet. He placed his palms on hips and rolled his back until his spine popped, which resulted in a relieved sigh. What also brought him delight was that upon gazing over the others, he saw an empty spot that had been full the previous night.

_Maybe he left_, RJ thought. His lips curled back into a devilish grin while his eyes remained on the other side of the group. _Or maybe some dogs really did get him. _

A graceful hop over Hammy brought him outside into the heat. He grumbled a bit as he felt the rays of sunlight cutting through his fur. Why the recent rain had not cooled his surroundings was a mystery. Usually that was what it would do, but if anything, the rain had only made the sun even more intense. At least the heat would give him an excuse to crash in someone's pool.

And just maybe, look for the twinkies on his own. RJ had planned to do it anyway, but for the moment it was too much fun making Duncan uncomfortable. He secretly hoped that if he did indeed go look for them, that he would not come back. Maybe he would be recaptured, or hit by a careless minivan. The latter was more likely, with the way drivers loved to talk on their cell phones, and juggle a handful of snacks that were simultaneously being shoved into their plump faces while driving. Some could even do all of this and change the radio station at the same time.

Resting behind the log was his golf bag. RJ knelt down to fish through it, pulling out and tossing assorted items aside until he found what he needed. It was a pair of blue children's goggles. They had been found recently in a trash bag alongside a half finished can of soda. There was nothing wrong with them, save the fact that the rubber headband was broken, and he wondered why they had been tossed out with things that were more obviously trash. Fixing the band was as simple as applying a few pieces of duct tape. Once it had been done, they were fine with the exception of the inevitable leaking through the edges of the plastic lenses.

With the weather still unfavorable, and with a desire to not bother with Duncan for as long as possible, RJ knew that it was time to spend the morning, and probably the afternoon, pool hopping. Due to the unfortunate fact that the humans would actually come home at some point during the day, he could never stay in one place for long. By then, he had learned the schedules of most of the nearby homes, and could plan his day accordingly.

One of his desires was instantly squashed as he poked his head through the other side of the hedge. Duncan stood approximately twenty feet away, beside a rusting red scooter that had not moved since the previous Christmas. With him was Ozzie, who was making a few wild gestures with his arms, and saying something that could not yet be deciphered.

Just as he had taken a few steps into the clearing, someone landed on his shoulders, and playfully clasped his or her hands over RJ's eyes.

"Guess who?!"

"Get off of me, Hammy," RJ said instantly, trying to suppress a smile. His eyes were freed as his left perked a little at the sound of a squirrel landing on his side.

"Aww, you're getting good at this!" Hammy pouted. "You're too smart for me!"

"And there's no worry that I won't ever be," he said as he returned his focus to the other two. He watched them for a moment, and began to wonder at what point they'd stop and eat grass. As he remained focused on them, he addressed Hammy again. "Hey, I'm going swimming. Want to keep me company?"

"You bet!" Hammy said gleefully as he jogged in place, ready to zip away at any second.

"Then let's go." RJ motioned with his hand to follow. First however, he knew that he would have to get past Duncan and Ozzie. Not wasting any time, he paced up to them and stopped about a foot away.

Duncan caught them out of the corner of his eyes, but did not turn his head to see them. He kept his attention on Ozzie, and took a few steps away from RJ. "Eh, hi Hammy, and RJ," he mumbled.

"Hello! Good morning!" Ozzie said as well, wiggling his fingers in a delicate wave. "We're going to get the twinkies for you!"

"Oh? Well go, go! You've made me wait long enough," RJ said, waving his fingers as well, although in a rapid shooing motion.

"We just have one problem."

"What's that?"

"He, doesn't know what they look like, and, I don't remember."

RJ's head snapped to face Duncan. "You what?!" he asked, quirking his brow as his mouth remained open at the end of the question.

Duncan gulped and tried to focus on the grass. "I don't know what a twinkie is."

RJ's palm violently collided with his forehead. "Are you serious?" he asked after a loud groan. "I know you're overly sheltered and a textbook moron, but even _you_ have to know twinkies. Didn't the humans ever feed you some?"

"I-I don't know." He broke any eye contact he may have pretended to have had while his fingers tapped together. "Just tell me what they are."

"Oh I will, I will, my tubby little holiday icon."

Hammy lightly tapped on RJ's shoulder. "Eh, what's that?"

"You know, the Easter bunny?"

"The what?! He's not going to get me is he?"

"No Hammy, calm down. He's not scary. He brings chocolate." RJ shook his head in frustration, and then returned his attention to Duncan. "Now about these twinkies. I think there's only one way I can really explain."

"How's that?" Duncan asked flatly. He groaned, anticipating something unpleasant.

"Well," he began, his hand proudly touching his chest while his nose smugly rose into the air. "With a song!" RJ cleared his throat, found his pitch (although just barely,) and then with a delicate hop to the side, began.

_Oh!_

_I would do anything for a twinkie!_

_I would roll in something stinky._

_I'd shave my tail!_

_Then eat a snail!_

_Yes, I'd do anything for a twinkie! _

_I would like to stay up late,_

_Maybe even m-_

"Okay, that's enough you vocal villain," Ozzie said as he tightly squeezed his hand over RJ's muzzle. "You're going to make my tail curl! And, you're giving me the urge to, to die!"

RJ snorted. "Well excuse me. I'm sorry you can't appreciate fine singing."

"It's not just me." Ozzie pointed to Hammy, who was rolling on the ground, shoving grass into his ears.

"You stink!" came an angry squeak.

Duncan, who was also cringing, and doing his best to smother his ears, glanced downward at him. "It's pretty bad isn't it, Sammy?"

"No! It's Hammy!" he wailed.

"At least get his name right, you fat idiot," RJ spat, his teeth showing clearly.

Duncan quickly spun on him, a tightly balled first shoved into his hip. "Get _mine_ right!" he snapped, and then suddenly gasped, clutching a paw over his mouth in surprise at his sudden bravery.

"I feel like a part of me just died!" came a shaken voice below them. Hammy packed a few clumps of dirt into his ears, along with the tangles of grass. He looked away from the others, as though too ashamed to draw their attention.

"I have, Duncan," RJ sneered after giving Hammy a quick glance. After a forced cough, he added: "Hines."

Hammy shivered below them. "So cold. So very cold."

With a roll of his eyes, RJ returned his attention to him. "It's going to be okay, Hammy. Snap out of it! It isn't the first time someone made that mistake."

"It isn't Duncan Hines! Just Duncan!"

"Hey! I'm not the one that said you were named after a cake box. If you prefer, I'll call you Betty." RJ was nearly standing on Duncan's feet during the retort.

Ozzie finally interjected, dramatically throwing his hands up in frustration. "Could you please, stop fighting? Explain to him, so we can get your twinkies, so we can stop this nonsense. Please."

Taking a step back, RJ crossed his arms. "Oh, fine. I shall explain for my ferociously fat friend," he said sourly. "To me, the twinkie is proof that God exists, and furthermore that he must surely be a raccoon, as only a being so naturally divine could create such a flawlessly perfect treat." His chest swelled with pride as he continued, a bit of moisture leaking from the corners of his mouth. "Begin with a fluffy, golden layer, made with a touch of the sun itself. Then, fill it with only the freshest, creamiest, most delectable sugary filling, and individually wrap them to be placed in an easy to open box. Each is nearly four inches of mouth watering, toe tingling, eye popping excitement for your tongue! And you can never have enough, oh no. Never!"

"They give you big thighs!"

"Why, yes they do Hammy." By the time RJ was finished, he had to take a step to the side to get out of the puddle that had formed at his feet. He shook off each foot, his tongue flicking out in disgust.

While trying to digest the description, Duncan gnawed his paw. One of his ears twitched rapidly, as though disturbed by a fly that would not leave it alone. "I think I've seen those before," he finally said. "Yellow, squishy, full of cream. About this long." He held his fingers about four inches apart, squinting through them.

The initial response from RJ was a loud growl from his stomach. "Good enough. Now go get them! Hurry! Shoo!" He fanned his fingers dismissively, eyes slightly lidded. "I don't want to look at you anymore."

"That's why I'm here!" Duncan said eagerly, standing straight and having to blow the fur out of his eyes. He began to dash to the house before them, but was quickly halted by a heavy tug on the back of his neck.

RJ cleared his throat before releasing him. "By the way, wrong house. It's over there. Three houses that way." He pointed to his left, through the nearby hedge. "And you better hurry, while no one's home."

"How do you know no one's home?"

"Oh, I'm just that good." He did not look back as he trotted away, the blue goggles swinging in a wide circle at his side.

Once RJ and Hammy had were gone, Duncan shrugged and began walking to where he had been directed. He had to cut through a few more hedgerows, which resulted in a few nicks and cuts from stray branches that he did not see until it was too late. The irritation for once made him consider trimming the overgrown tuft of fur over his eyes. At least then it would have been easier to see the obstacles coming.

When he pushed his way out of the first hedge, he paused to make sure Ozzie was still with him. Out popped the opossum a short moment later. After gaining his footing he followed, letting Duncan lead, but occasionally skipping ahead as it was difficult for him to walk slowly enough to not pass him.

To their right was a kidney shaped swimming pool. A child's size duck float drifted along the water, occasionally bumping into an orca float that had seen better days; the dorsal fin was sagging from air loss and the paint was fading. What was left in the way of open water was not much, as each cookie cutter home had been built with the smallest pool that could still be considered one, in the ongoing effort to do things as cheaply as possible. Duncan took a look at this, and then quickly averted his eyes with a shiver. To him, pools were yet another unfamiliar danger of the outside world.

Ozzie skipped ahead of him momentarily. He did a quick spin to face him, and then pulled out a carrot from a fanny pack he had been wearing. "Carrot?"

"Oh sure!" It was snatched away without a second thought. His overgrown teeth still needed work, and he gnawed the carrot eagerly, enjoying the momentary relief it brought.

Soon they had passed through the next hedgerow, with only a slight set back. Outside of Duncan getting stuck between two branches, and having to play a game of Twister to free himself, it was easy going. Once again, Ozzie managed to slip through unscathed.

The following yard had a bit more of interest. Alongside the pool was a blue trampoline, much like one would see in the many funniest video shows, where it was required each time to show someone taking a misguided bounce to the ground, or falling through the edge, and thus getting hit between the legs; it was bordered by an eight foot net on each side, to prevent the former from happening. Rolled underneath the trampoline was a plastic, pastel colored tricycle, that had a pouch connected to the handles to hold a cell phone, and an addition between them to hold a canned drink. Resting at the back of the house sat a tall, wide, metallic beast of a grill. It reflected the sunlight like a signaling mirror, and appeared to be the lone object that had been regularly maintained.

Duncan had to be tugged away from the hypnotic display of shininess coming from the grill. Even after passing through to the final yard, he still felt the need to stare at it. The only problem was, the brightness made his eyes burn.

"Ouch," he choked under his breath, rubbing his eyes in hopes of clearing the spots he saw. Once his vision was reasonably clear, he stopped to look up at the house. It was almost identical to the others, but instinct told him he was in the right place. Or, perhaps it was the abused soccer ball near the back door.

"So, how do we get in?" he asked.

"Is there a pet door? We use those a lot," Ozzie said. A few leaves had stuck to his fur and he was busy brushing them out. A few stubbornly clung to his cheek, which had to be more forcefully removed. "Curse you, mother of nature," he muttered.

"What's a pet door?" His ears twitched in Ozzie's direction.

"Well, when humans live with a cat, or sometimes a dog, they have a tiny door in a door, that they can walk through to get outside." As he said this, his fingers mimicked a pair of legs, walking from right to left across his face.

"Humans can fit through little doors? Wow, I didn't know that."

"No, no. _They_ go through the big door. The cat or dog goes through the little door."

"Oooooh," Duncan said after a moment's thought. "There isn't one. They never let me leave the house."

"Then we'll find the key!" Ozzie heroically pumped his fist in the air, and then hurried to the front of the house.

Duncan quickly followed. Panting heavily from the run, he stopped next to him by the front door. "How will we find it?"

"Simple," he said dramatically as he leaned over and placed his fingers under the welcome mat; it was made of a foul smelling black rubber, and painted with pastel flowers and humming birds.

"Humans _always_ leave the keys under the mat!" He heaved it upward, tossing the mat into the grass. Much to his horror, there were no keys to be found.

"Noooo!" he exclaimed, dropping to his knees. "RJ, was, wrong! They, aren't there!" He held out his hands, as though pleading for mercy, and then made two tight fists, clutching them together at his chest. Ozzie promptly pretended to die.

Duncan shot a glance at him as he lay on his back, his tongue lifelessly hanging to the pavement. "Why do you always do that? I'll just ask this guy." As he said this, he gestured to a lawn gnome in the grass.

"Hey buddy, we're looking for a key," he said, stepping up to the gnome, and looking him in the yes. They were the same height, minus the pointy hat. "Do you think you can help us?"

The plastic figure said nothing, forever smiling.

"Excuse me? Hello?" Duncan's foot thumped anxiously. "Can you help us? We need the key. Key. Understand?"

He was once again met with the painted smile.

"You know, it's very very rude to not answer when someone is talking to you. We desperately need some help or I'm going to get eaten by dogs and you just stand there smiling at me like you don't care! With your stupid hat!" His voice had gone shrill by the end, but it could not coax the gnome into talking. He turned his head for a moment, collecting his thoughts, and then looked it directly in the eyes again as he gripped the shoulders. "Why won't you talk to me?! The hat guy on that travel commercial talks all the time!"

It was not until the head began to rock and then topple to the ground that Duncan realized that he had been shaking the gnome. Horrified, he looked down at the decapitated little man. His voice leapt two octaves in an emasculated scream that threatened to break all of the nearby windows; a car alarm went off in the distance. Running around in a circle with his arms in the air, he yelped. "I killed him I killed him!"

Ozzie, who was slowly picking himself off the ground, saw this and gasped. He fell onto his back again.

"Get up, we've got to hide the evidence!" Duncan gave a nervous hop as he looked around for a safe place.

Still on his back, Ozzie opened his eyes and rested on his arms. He squinted past the frantic rabbit to the massacre. After blinking a few times, he noticed what it really was. But more importantly, he noticed something shining atop the neck stump. "Hey look, right there!" he said, pointing with a rigid arm, and then hopping to his feet.

Duncan gasped as he covered his eyes. Ever so slowly, he turned so that he could peek out the side of his palms. His eye was caught by a bright glimmer, which resulted in another scream. He bolted, nearly tripping over his feet, and ducked behind Ozzie's back. "He's all ready bleeding and it's shiny!!" he wailed.

"No, you. . ." He paused and looked over his shoulder to see the shivering rabbit. ". . .do not understand. That isn't blood, it's the key! And that wasn't a man, it was a decoration."

"Ohhh! Of course. I knew that, I just forgot what they looked like. Yeah, that's it." He forced a laugh, as though it had all been a joke.

Trotting past Ozzie, he picked up the key, and marveled as it reflected the sunlight. Upon seeing a sliver of his reflection, he decided to groom for a moment as the messy tuft of hair over his eyes was an even bigger mess than usual. He blew it out of the way, tried to brush it back, and then waved the key at door. When nothing happened, he addressed Ozzie. "It's not working."

"What are you doing?"

Duncan waved the key at the door again. His eyes clenched tightly as he strained in vain. "Um, trying to make the door open," he said squeaked with an embarrassed smirk.

"It goes _in_ the door," Ozzie said casually. "In the hole, in the knob. You turn it and push the door open, and then you can go inside the house!" Each action was dramatically mimed.

"Oh!" Once the idea had sunk in, he scratched at his chin, and then gazed up at the doorknob. "I don't think I can reach that," he said, sighing in defeat. "It's too high."

Ozzie took a step back, holding out his hands vertically to judge the distance. "I bet you could if you stood on my shoulders." He ran up to the door, stopping a few inches before it, and then squatted as he tapped his shoulder. "Climb on!"

"Good idea!" After a period of trial and error, he finally found himself on Ozzie's shoulders. There was a lot of straining and grunting from below, as he did his best to support the weight.

Soon, Ozzie's legs began to tremble. They quickly began to feel like loose rubber bands. He took a deep breath and tried to look up at the knob. "What's taking so long?" he said through his teeth.

"It's not working!" came the reply, followed by a hasty clunking sound. "I'm turning the key, and nothing is happening!"

"You have to turn it to the right."

"Which way is that?!"

Ozzie stifled a frustrated groan. "The way you aren't turning it."

"Oh right! To the _right_." At the same moment he realized this, there was a click. The door promptly swung open.

"Good, now please get down," Ozzie said as nicely as he could with all of his muscles burning and about to fail him.

This he did. As soon as Duncan landed, he peered into the house; a very relieved moan came from behind him. "Okay this is it!" he said after checking out the front hallway. He turned to Ozzie, placing his hands on his shoulders as he had done the gnome, although he did not shake this time. A very stern, yet peaceful look came over him. "I have to do this myself. I want to go alone."

"Okay. Just hurry."

"No no no. That's not what you're supposed to say."

"I'm not?" Ozzie asked, confused. "But it is okay. You're not making sense."

Duncan sighed, drawing a hand over his brow. "You're supposed to say, 'I can't let you do this alone!' That's the way these things always work."

"Yes I can, you crazy rabbit."

As though he did not hear the remark, he continued. "And then I say, 'No, take care of yourself! And if I don't come back, tell Heather I love her!'"

"You do?"

"Oh, never mind! It was just an example!" Not wishing to speak anymore about it, he pushed away from Ozzie and dashed into the house.

Once inside, Duncan took a quick glance around the home. Everything was just as he remembered, although he was not used to viewing the house from the floor. He had not been there in nearly a week, but it felt as though he had never left. Everything looked and smelled the same. Even the television had been left on, as was often the case, especially with the sets in the bedrooms.

The maternal glow coming from the screen instantly invited him to watch. An infomercial for a stain remover ran, complete with a man that could not stop yelling about the infinite wonders of the product. When he actually paused from this, he yelled instead about bonus gifts that one would receive if he or she ordered within the next fifteen minutes. Strangely enough, the same ad would reair not only later in the day, but for the next several months as well. There would always be fifteen minutes to order.

Fortunately for Duncan, there was nothing worth watching. Yet. Cautiously, he tiptoed into the living room, ignoring the yelling man. After peering around the furniture, he looked up to where his cage had been. It was gone. The stand that it had been on was folded up and resting against the wall by the entertainment center. Flattening himself against the back of the couch, he looked from side to side for any signs of danger. The coast was clear.

His eyes caught something in the carpet. Unable to tame his curiosity, he knelt down to inspect. It was a tiny brown ring that appeared to be made of some sort of organic material. Covering it was a thick, hardened layer of a white powdery substance. Duncan picked it up, turning it over between his fingers as a few bits flaked off and fell to the floor, disappearing into the carpet.

After waving it before his eyes, and giving it a quick sniff and lick, he realized that it was a piece of cereal, probably from the morning's breakfast. He remembered that often they ate on the couch, and so finding the piece in the carpet was not much of a surprise. He contemplated trying it, wiggling his nose a bit as he thought. Sure, it was basically junk, but it was so insignificant that it could not hurt. Duncan also reasoned that he was hungry, not having had anything that morning outside of a few dried up berries and a piece of bark. He gave the piece another lick, and that helped make up his mind. He needed sugar.

The cereal piece was hastily popped into his mouth as he looked from side to side frantically, as though expecting to be caught. No one was home, but with his stress level raised, he did not trust reason. Suddenly, his body went rigid. It was not from fear, but from a familiar, and very well missed tingling in his body: the sugar rush. Even the small portion caused his hands to momentarily tremble. He felt his feet patting the ground, slowly at first, but soon picking up speed to the point that he nearly rocketed into the air.

Duncan wrapped his knuckles on his head as he felt his concentration slipping like a greased ice fisherman. His spotty memory tried to recall where RJ had been, the places he had all ready looked, and where his owners had taken their food after returning from wherever it was that they got it. Usually the groceries were left in brown sacks in the middle of the kitchen for about a day; each item was slowly put away as it was actually needed. The only foods he could count on actually being stored immediately were the important frozen ones, like ice cream, pizza, and chocolate chip waffles.

He remembered watching RJ tear through every cabinet. Every one of them. If the twinkies were not hidden there, they had to be upstairs somewhere. He considered the refrigerator for a moment, but from what he had seen, snack cakes were not meant to be cold, especially not perfectly golden, delicious ones. Perhaps they were upstairs.

Several minutes later, and with numerous rug burns from dragging himself to the second floor, Duncan collapsed. He took a moment to catch his breath and thanked the sugar for helping him get as far as he had. As he lay there, he looked down the short hallway to see three doors, two of which had been left open. The lights had been left on as well. He felt a sinking sensation in his gut as he considered that the twinkies could very well be behind the closed door, and this time there was no way he could open it. He felt that if they were even half as amazing as RJ thought they were, that they would have most likely been kept in a safe place. Gradually he came to his feet once more, still breathing raggedly. There was not much he could do other than check the open rooms. He chose the nearest.

Inside was an explosion of toys. They were strewn about the floor in seemingly random places. Some were by the bed, some were under the window, some were by the television (which had been left on as well,) and some were resting under a truncated series of empty shelves that had been painted white and pink to match the Disney princess wallpaper. The bed, which stretched into the middle of the room, was also covered in a set of princess sheets and a blanket, although one could not easily tell with how they were untucked and bunched up near the end of the mattress.

A hilariously unfunny movie from the comedy channel provided background music as Duncan ventured further into the room. He had to step delicately to avoid tripping over any toys. Some of them appeared rather dangerous, especially one string haired doll with a motorized jaw; he could only begin to imagine what its purpose was. Any concentration he had was soon broken as he spotted a pizza box under the bed. He considered checking to see if any was left, but just as he entered into a debate with himself about the benefits of eating so much cheese and meat, he tripped.

Duncan yelped as he found himself eating carpet once more. He rolled onto his back and rubbed at his chin, which throbbed and ached. Along with the rug burn, he began to feel that he was earning a fair share of battle wounds. He hoped that he would be repaid for the sacrifice, but did not believe it would happen, not even for half a second. Sighing, he sat and looked around for what had caused his misfortune. It did not take long to find it.

By his feet lay a purple crayon. As he looked at some of the larger toys on the floor, and then back at the crayon, a perfectly timed round of laughter came from movie. "Oh, shut up," he spat as he gave a half glance at the screen.

As he further scanned the room, he noticed another, smaller room connected to it. Much to his surprise, clothes were hanging up inside in a well-organized manner. But over in the corner of it, was the most beautiful, welcome sight he had ever seen. The only other organized part of the room lay before him, smiling from below the clothing. He felt his face light up as he drew closer; any pain he felt had melted away like butter in the microwave.

Stacked inside was a pillar of snack boxes, packed firmly together against the wall. He wondered why they would be stored here and not with the regular food, but since he was sure that he had found what he needed, answering this question was not a concern. Fortunately for Duncan, there were pictures on each that revealed the contents. The top box contained fudge cakes, complete with a cream filling. The next two boxes had small, hexagonal shaped treats, with butterscotch icing and chocolate spots; they were known as Cheetah Chompers. Next was a box of peanut butter cookies (now with more peanut buttery flavor!) And then a few more boxes down, all the way to the bottom, he saw a picture of a certain fluffy, golden treat, that looked exactly as described.

Without wasting any time, he grabbed the box. The treat tower collapsed as soon as he did, and had it not been for a quick hop backwards, he would have been buried in them. He then just as quickly made his way from the room, leaping to and fro around the mess, as though playing a game of hopscotch. It was especially awkward while carrying a box that was nearly the same size as his body; fortunately the contents lacked enough substance to have any real weight.

Getting _down_ the stairs proved to be more difficult. After a few unsuccessful attempts to step down them, he fell to his rump, box still in his arms, and scooted all the way to the bottom. A very sore rear met him there. After giving his tender rump a good massage, he glanced up at the TV in the living room. As soon as he did, he wished that he had not. A rerun of Andy Griffith that he had not yet seen was showing.

His eyes slowly traveled down to the twinkie box, out into the back yard, and then back to the screen. This process repeated several times, until with a heavy sigh, he talked himself into staying. He reasoned that the show would be over soon, that RJ could wait a little longer, and that maybe, just maybe, this would be the only episode that he had missed, and could finally say that he had seen every one.

As he sat before the couch, his eyes continued to fall on the twinkies. Gnawing on his lip, he pondered trying one. What could it hurt? If they were as good as RJ said, surely he deserved to try at least one for his efforts. Duncan thought about this for a minute, while watching Barney and Andy get into a silly argument. The show was soon interrupted for a set of commercials. He looked down at the box again. Sighing, he began to peel back the ends.

ooo

Twenty minutes later, Duncan stumbled into the back yard, where he hoped to find Ozzie. Rather quickly he did, standing beside the rear door. "Ozzie! I got them!" he called, and nearly dropped the box when he tried to wave.

With his attention held firmly by a paddleball, it took Ozzie a moment to notice him. "These contraptions were designed by a mad man! They're impossible! How, does RJ do it?!" he asked with a great deal of frustration, and a heavy wave of his free arm.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Trash can," Ozzie replied with a sudden coolness.

"Oh." There was a momentary pause, in which the paddleball was tossed aside, just barely missing the can as it struck the rim with a metallic clang, and then finally bounced to the grass. "I said I found them. Can we go?"

"Hey, you did!" he said after checking out the box. "Yes, let's go home."

ooo

"Look! I got them!" Duncan called as soon as he saw RJ returning from his swim. He had waited impatiently for hours, the box never leaving his grip. Unable to wait a few seconds longer, he hopped to his feet, and ran directly toward him with the box waving above his head.

RJ stopped abruptly, ducking to the side to avoid being tackled. "Thank you, I guess. I can't believe you didn't mess this up," RJ said as he snatched the box and lifted the goggles off of his eyes to inspect it. "_And_, you got the extra filling ones. I'm almost impressed."

"I got them just for you! Now we're even!" He grinned widely and held out his hand to shake.

"I didn't say we were friends yet." RJ corrected, licking his lips. With his attention on more important matters, he tore the wings off the end of the box, and then dived his arm into it. "Hey! There's only one left! There are supposed to be twelve in here!" he said after a startled pause.

Duncan squeaked with a nervous laugh. "Um, it was like that when I got it?"

"No, I don't think it was. You ate them, didn't you?"

"Well, you see, um-It's a funny story really."

"Funny? Do you think stealing from me is funny?!" he snarled.

Duncan began to tremble. Suddenly, he fell on all fours and wailed. "They were so good! I couldn't resist! I'm so sorry!"

"All right, butterball," RJ said as he dug through his golf bag. "Tell me how fast you can run."

"W-w-why?"

"Because," he began, his voice growing very warm and gentle. He pulled a large roll of duct tape from the bag, and with a rough tearing sound, pulled the tape back in a long strip. "I want to know how long it'll take me to catch you."

ooo

Later in the afternoon, Verne and RJ rested their backs against the log, and each enjoying a fruit drink. They spoke little. Their attention instead was on the constant chatter of birds. The various chirps and squawks combined to form a wash of cacophony. Every so often, a brave soul would stand out, but the others soon swallowed his voice. After listening to them for a while, Verne began to think he was hearing voices other than the birds, calling from within, but kept quiet in the event RJ thought he was losing his mind; or at least more so than normal.

"Have you seen Duncan anywhere?" Verne asked after finishing his drink. He crushed the juice box and set it to his side. "I heard he went to get your twinkies."

RJ unwrapped his one twinkie before answering, first placing it to his tongue and happily cooing. "Eh, he's hanging around," he said apathetically. "Maybe he dug a hole and got stuck in it."

"I was worried you had frightened him into leaving. You know he would never survive on his own," Verne said with a more concerned tone than he had received.

"Me?" RJ asked as he pointed to himself. "Verne, I'm hurt that you would think so. I wouldn't harm anyone."

"I just know how you've been treating him. He was really afraid of you, you know. I just hope that you'll leave him alone now that you have what you want."

He smiled and yawned before answering, taking the first bite of his twinkie. "Mmm, these are so good," came a voice muffled with cake and cream. "And I don't think he'll be bothering me anymore. We've made up. We even shook on it."

"Good. So what have you learned from this?"

"That extra filling is so worth it!" he said. All of his teeth shone as he smiled, along with bits of cake that stuck to them.

"And did you learn anything else?"

"Hmm." RJ pondered for a moment, and then took another mouthful of his treat between thoughts. "Okay, yes I did. Duct tape solves everything!"

"What do you mean by that?" he asked accusingly.

"My goggles, Verne. My goggles."

Groaning, he threw up his arms. "No! Anything else? Anything about not judging others until you get to know them? Or the value of friends?"

"No, not really," he said after taking the last bite. "But really, these things are delicious. You _have_ to try them!"

"Ugh, you are helpless! I give up!" Verne stood as quickly as he could, which was still slow by ordinary means. "I'm going to the lake!"

"Okay, see you later Verne," RJ said with an unseen grin as he watched him leave. "Clean up that shell mildew while you're there!" He gave a wave and then closed his eyes for an afternoon nap.

Meanwhile, Hammy gaily trotted through the forest. Most of his fur was still damp from the swim earlier, and in clung to his skin in patches, whereas the rest was frizzed, giving him a wild appearance. As he walked, he nibbled a discarded pizza crust that he had found on the way back; a faint taste of pepperoni and sausage lingered on the dough. Happily he hummed to himself while finishing it.

Suddenly, a panicked voice came from above. "Hammy! Hammy! Help! You have to save me!"

He stopped in his tracks, gazing upward suspiciously. His eyes narrowed as he listened for the voice. "Who's that?" he asked.

"Up here above you! I need your help."

"God, is that you?" Hammy then asked after a moment's silence. "Because I've got something I wanna know!"

"No, it's me!"

Confused, he dropped the pizza crust and scratched his head. "God's wife?"

"No! It's Duncan! Come on Hammy, come up here. You're my only hope! You've got to let me down! I'm taped to the tree! I can't move!"

"I'll be right there!" Just as Hammy was about to bullet to the top, he paused. "Hey, wait a minute! You can't trick me! I'm not supposed to talk to you" he said angrily, sticking his fingers in his ears. "You want to eat all of my cookies. Well you can't have'em!"

"No Hammy! Don't. . ." Duncan went silent as he saw a red blur fly out of view, along with his last ounce of hope to be rescued anytime soon. Like a silver wrapped mummy, he waited, peering out through the one opening that had been left for his eyes.


End file.
